Grave Secrets
by CharmingNotDarling
Summary: How The Boy with the Answer should have ended
1. Chapter 1

Grave Secrets

Part One

**A/N: This is completely Un-Betaed material so all mistakes (and I'm sure there's a few) are mine and mine alone. **

Disclaimer: Disclaimed.

Summary: How the Boy with the Answer should have ended

So you've decided a night of friends and a few drinks is what you all need after the last week, or if you look at the whole picture, the last four years. No one has the energy for crowds of the weekend regulars you brush shoulders with at the bar or that waitress with the pretty smile you see at the diner. So tonight you've gathered your family around the table in the lounge at the lab. You figure this is an appropriate place seeing as this is where you are when the job brings you together. You let your eyes wonder the room, over the faces of your family and a prayer of thanks runs through you mind as you consider where you'd be right now if you were too late that endless day four years ago.

Your eyes meet hers as you continue to look them all over and see all your thoughts, minus the prayer of course, mirrored in her own weathered gaze. She's unusually quiet and slightly distant which you just attest to the crowd, because with you she's always just a little less guarded. So with gestures only you ask if she'd like her glass topped off and she holds the cup out to you from her perch on the sofa. She's pressed up against the arm leaving space enough between herself and Cam who at the moment has her head thrown back against the cushion and her eyes fixed on the early evening sky above.

You sit in the office chair with its gliding bottom and reclining back and distribute the rations in appropriate doses which seems at the moment to be a full time job. The chair seems so out of place in the small cozy space that's filled with art deco couches and oblong coffee tables. You guess it's kind of like the way you feel down on that platform sometimes, surrounded by a flourish of squints and their lingo, the only one without the blah blue lab coat.

They're all unusually quite tonight, you realize as the most dominant noise to be heard is the humming of the florescent tube lighting directly over head. And why wouldn't they be? They're all as wiped out as you are. There wasn't a moment of this case that wasn't directly connected to all of them.

_It wasn't just you in that car, it was all of us._

Jack is slumped in the chair off to your left and his new bride is strewn across his lap. In between kissing and passing the single red cup back and forth, they whisper and sigh and stifle a few giggles. Cam has her back pressed into the corner of the cautiously orange couch, her legs crossed at the knee and her head thrown back as her eyes trace the clouds through the skylight above. She's been running her fingers around the rim of her cup but so far her lips have not been so lucky. And your best girl sits before you on her own end of the couch, set forward with her elbows on her knees and her mind a racing whirl wind. She hasn't so much as sipped her drink. You glide over until the wheels of the chair catch the corner of the carpet set beneath the obtuse coffee table. It's just enough latitude for your knees to gently bump hers. She looks up at you, her chin in her hand, and fakes the beginning of a smile.

Who is she kidding? Doesn't she know who she's messing with?

You want to ask what's going on in that over worked, larger than life brain of hers, because she's been carrying that look around for days now. It's gone from annoying to worry some seeing as you've all just put the reason for your misery behind bars for life. So your inquisition rolls off your tongue just in time to be drowned out by the robust voice that fills the lab the instant the doors glide open.

Hell hath no fury like Caroline Julian.

"I knew I'd find you all celebrating. Figured I'd bring this along to highlight some memories. Not that any of you need to be reminded of how lucky you are"

She's come marching through the lab doors, with what looks like a storage box from evidence in her hands and the young Dr. Sweets scurrying with his own burden in her wake. For a woman of such ample size she moves with impressive speed. Sweets has to jog to keep up as she crosses the sterile, stainless steal room and mounts the corner stairs. You all wait in questioning silence, sharing a moment of concern and alarm, seeing as Ms. Julian never needs a reason to demand anything of anyone. The boy wonder is huffing a bit as they crest the second staircase and plop their boxes on the large table to your right.

"Now where's my glass Seeley Booth?" Oh she makes her demands alright and they're of you at the moment. There will be nothing more forthcoming until she gets her own red cup.

"Three grown men hangin' around lettin' a woman carry these boxes-"The end of her sentence is left unclear as you lift a cup just filled with the evening's brand of comfort.

You roll your eyes at your partner and are rewarded with a truly genuine smile and it warms your heart beyond the limits of your chest. You hand over Her Grace's glass as Sweets opens the sagging masses she claims are gifts.

She receives the cup and sniffs cautiously at its contents by way of thanks. As she takes the first cautious sip she waves her hand over the table in a 'go on and take it' gesture.

"This here belongs to the three of you. It's what you all had to surrender after the rest of us saved your asses." She has the subtlety of a freight train. But luckily you've all been subject to her sense of self for far too long to be in any way affected.

Bones settles her hands firmly across your knees and gives you a non-too gentle push; she gives herself enough room to stand and moves beyond you toward the table. You catch sight of Angela settling back into the chair and Hodgins claims the real-estate across the table from Brennan. Sweets sits beside Cam, his own glass in hand and Caroline finds comfort in the arm chair near the stairs. Brennan and Jack share a look across the table and then they both turn to you. You know they're waiting for you because this is something you all share, even if it wasn't at the same time.

There's nothing she could ask of you that you wouldn't instantly surrender and the fact that she hasn't said anything doesn't mean she isn't asking.

"Alright, you wanna walk down memory lane; I'll hold your hands." You try to add a touch of humor to the situation and hope it hasn't come off by way of obnoxious. Hodgins always manages to get his lab coat in a twist when this case is thrown under the light of interrogation so his reaction isn't all that concerning to you. It's the look on her face, the one that's been there all week that you can't stand the sight of.

There isn't much left to claim in your calamity of a box. You were left at the scene with the suit on your back and the watch on your wrist. Your crime scene still resides some fifty to one hundred feet below sea level. The two of them however were surrounded by their own personal effects, so it's no surprise to you that Hodgins has his hands full. He's removed his sweat shirt, jacket and jeans and now managed to unearth his messenger bag. The luggage brown leather looks just as it did the last time you saw it on him.

He's rummaging through the bag, in search of something, only he knows what, and he's becoming increasingly agitated when it becomes clear to you all that it's not going to surface. Angela has come up beside him and rests her hand gently on his arm, but she either goes unnoticed or ignored.

All at once his head snaps up and his deep blue eyes meet Brennan's bright ones. Whatever it was he was going to verbally hurl across the table is stilled with the breath he can't exhale once he sees her outstretched hand. You're as surprised as he is to see she's moved. You were so focused on Hodgins and his drama you completely missed her own venture through the soggy cardboard.

She smiles, sort of and it brings him back down from his bought with anger. She's obviously found what he was looking for but he's just standing there staring. He hasn't even made an attempt to receive the folded paper.

"What in high hell are you fooling around with Dr. Hodgins?" You all jump slightly as Caroline's voice echoes through the lab and your ears.

"It's his goodbyes." Brennan addresses Caroline and the rest of you while her hand is still outstretched, Hodgins still staring at it. "Hodgins made a goodbye letter before we set off the airbag. In case we weren't found in time."

Like everything else she speaks of, her tone takes on an air of lecture. Its matter of fact and emotionless as if she wasn't holding the key to his heart in her hand. You'd be irritated by this if you weren't so intrigued. The mood definitely needs to be lightened but you're unsure of how to master such a feat for the first time in a while. Even Caroline has gone silent, her cup hovering a fraction of an inch from her lips.

All of a sudden Brennan turns to face Angela across the table, and extends the letter out to her. "It's probably all for you." Hodgins doesn't speak, or block her outstretched hand. In fact, he steps back and turns to his wife, a surprised smile on his face. He even manages to chuckle.

"It's the truth. It's all for you." When Angela makes no move, her features frozen mid gawk, Hodgins finally takes the note from Brennan and with his other hand guides Angela towards the chair they recently vacated. They whisper and laugh as they unfold the paper together, the rest of you have vanished as far as they're concerned.

"I'd be curious to see who you said goodbye to Dr. Brennan." Until this moment you were prepared to keep the quirky duckling comments to yourself, considering the week you've all endured but his audacity is enough to have you wishing for a pond in which to dunk him. It would be like putting a cow out to pasture. You swivel back around to the couch to tell him so and find he's moved in beside her. Invading her space, hands in his pockets, and his 'I'm your best friend' smile plastered to his face. And just as you open your mouth to tell him to back off she answers him.

"I didn't write one." She's matter of fact and truthful, no one would ever question her because she doesn't lie. Sweets stands his ground, unmoved by this statement as he watches her put the boxes back to rights. You give into the need to feel sorry for him. He's always so sure the next moment with her will be the one where she just turns to him and reacts the way anyone else would. Because as you watch his face you know he believes she has a note tucked away somewhere, hidden away from the rest of the world.

You'd pity him if he were anyone else. Instead you find yourself wondering if the fountain out back would suffice as a duck pond.

You vacate the chair in exchange for a perch on the end of the table right beside her. Sweets immediately takes a step back. You watch him chastise himself for reacting to you the way he does. Hey you can't help it if he's intimidated. So he takes the mandatory step back, his hands come out of his pockets and he rests one on his hip the other on the table and his eyes now follow Brennan's hand rather than her eyes. She's got everything back in the boxes and the lids on as right as possible. She skirts the table with her belongings and heads for the stairs.

You let her go. And you don't say a word because she's obviously moved, you just have no idea in which direction it may be. So Sweets heads back to the couch with the bottle you abandoned earlier and he tops off Caroline's drink as he goes. You feel Cams eyes before you see them. When you do turn to her she gives her head a jerk, it's an open invitation to join them. She shoves the office chair your way with the toe of her shoe and you leave your worries for your partner in the back of your mind for a few moments and share a drink with a friend.

**A/N: I found this saved to some random memory stick and figured I might as well post it. I ironed out part two so it'll be up shortly. Thanks for taking the time to read this**


	2. Chapter 2

Grave Secrets

Grave Insights

Part two

Disclaimer: Disclaimed.

**A/N: Once again, no beta, mistakes are mine. **

It's not until you're half way through your second glass, compliments of Johnny Walker and his black label bottle, that you realize Seeley was right to keep you all in tonight. Sure you'd all fall right in line as you do every time you celebrate the closing of a case, but this was definitely the right move to make for everyone's sanity. Because from your comfy cocoon in the corner of the cautiously orange couch, you watch their faces and where there's no sadness or hollow eyed stares, you know they'll all sleep a little deeper after an evening of just family. The man knows his people, and his whiskey, better than he knows himself because as you watch him watch you all, his eyes dart toward the platform below every other minute and you know he's questioning himself. Even as he sits here, filling your glasses, making you laugh, you know his heart is downstairs tucked haphazardly into the back pocket of Dr. Brennan's jeans.

And to think, you'd warned him to be cautious of her feelings.

"Seeley Booth, I know you're not keepin' that bottle all to yourself."

Caroline holds her cup up to the level of her eyes and lets it swing between her thumb and four fingers. She keeps her features locked in her standard no nonsense glare until he's on the move, gliding across the polished floor in the chair he dug out of a nearby office. You suppress a chuckle and catch Seeley's eyes and find his are bright with laughter as well. It melts your insides just a little to see him in spirits of a higher nature than he's been the last few days because it takes a lot to bring him down.

Unless it involves a certain bone doctor with ice blue eyes.

No one asks after Brennan's whereabouts. After years together they've each learned in their own way, how that particular piece of the puzzle doesn't always slide in seamlessly.

On his glide back from filling her Grace's Glass, Seeley slows as he comes across your half empty cup. And like he asked Brennan earlier, he just extends the bottle towards you and lifts his dark brows in question. And what the hell, it's been a doozy of a day, and a week. Heather Taffit will never be able to wreak havoc in this lab again. And the couch in your office isn't all that uncomfortable if it should come to that.

He's careful as he pours and you watch the look of concentration as it crosses his face. It starts with the setting of his jaw and works its way up as his brows draw closer to his mahogany eyes and they go hard as stone. And then all of a sudden the concentration is gone and a sly smile begins in the corners of his mouth. He's caught you staring without even shifting his gaze. When his eyes do meet yours there's no cause for embarrassing blushes or self-conscious excuses because you've known this man since before he was one. And while you've shared many a night entwined in nothing but Egyptian cotton, neither of your thoughts have ventured back to that place and time.

At least you know his haven't.

And ok, so what if yours have.

It's hard to keep your mind from wondering when Johnny Walker has taken hold of the leash you like to keep it on. And who could withstand such a charming face and that lion heart anyway. You lean in a bit, bringing your faces just a few inches closer and hold your glass up in an invitation to his. His features go soft and for the first time tonight you know you have his full attention. So what if you're not his best girl. Right now you're the girl who's making him smile. A quarter of an inch before the rims meet he holds back.

"What should we toast to?" He asks you quietly.

There are so many things to be thankful for and at the moment you can't decide which one to voice.

"I know," he says while you ponder. He licks his lips and takes another glance down over the railing, and quickly returns his gaze to you. It's amazing and truly childish how that one small gesture manages to ruin this whole moment for you.

But he'll never know.

"To the mind behind the madness, and the calm before the storm."

It takes you a moment to realize he's talking about you. And even though there are a thousand things you could correct or pick apart in his inaccurate, yet touching choice of words, you don't. You smile and slide you cup home along the rim of his.

You don't sip this time but throw the two ounces that he just added to your cup back, and he does the same. As the amber liquid burns the back of your throat you both take a look around and realize the party is slowly dwindling down. The lovebirds are no longer giggling but snuggled close together in a way which suggests slumber. The young Dr. Sweets is fighting to keep his glassy eyes open while Caroline slowly sips her cup and stares out into the night above. She looks content and rather pensive. That combined with her silence is a most unusual sight.

You figure it's a good a time as any to set the room to rights. So much in the fashion Brennan pushed him aside earlier, you slide Booth back a few feet and stand. You have to give your mind a moment to remember how to steady yourself seeing as you've done all of your drinking sitting down.

They seem to take their cue from you, with the exception of Caroline, they all start to rise and straighten their little corners of the lounge. Angela yawns and leans bonelessly into the crook of Jack's arm while he slides their chair home with his foot. Sweets gains his feet in one swift movement and then spends a few extra seconds maintaining his vertical position. Jack hands his empty cup to the duckling and then throws his arm around his shoulder, carefully steering him toward the stairs. You hear the wheels of the office chair gliding along the glossy floor but it stops too quickly to be vacant. You turn from straightening the couch cushions and find him wedged between the couch and the table up against the rail. He's staring down into the darkened lab, the only light to be seen is a bold golden glow which seeps out from under Dr. Brenna's closed office door. You're about to speak but Caroline beats you to it and you're immensely great full she isn't speaking to you.

"Hand that boy over Dr. Hodgins." She's got her mouth set in what has become to you her standard issue disapproving line. But somewhere in the set of her eyes you find a look that can only be defined as motherly. "You take care of your woman; I'll take care of the boy wonder here."

She tosses you their cups as she guides Sweets over the edge of the carpet and passed the table. The motion sensor lights go on as they take the back stairs and cross the stretch below. Angela turns her eyes towards the closed door as they pass it, she's either too tired or too intoxicated to take the time to stop and inquire after her friend's emotional state.

Either that or she knows there's no need for worry, Booth's usually the one who takes charge in these icy situations.

You've set the room to rights so with Mr. Walker tucked under your arm you turn to Seeley as the lack of movement on the stairs throws the ledge back into almost darkness.

"Come on G-Man. Party's over. And I'm sure Dr. Brennan wants to get home." You throw that last comment out there for everyone's sake. It gives him the reason, and you the excuse, to find out why she's walled up inside her office on one of the greatest nights of your crime fighting career.

When he finally rises he leaves the chair right where it is. He throws his arm around your shoulder and pulls you in close so your cheek is pressed into his collarbone.

He's so constant. He smells the same, feels the same. And you're pretty sure he'd taste the same. But that's neither here nor there. The lights burst on again as you both start to descend. Their glare is blinding and it's a little bit of a buzz kill as you realize the glare has prematurely sobered you up.

As you round the corner and approach your office, his goes rigid beside you. And then you see it too, Dr. Brennan's door is open and there's no longer a bright light glowing. There's only a soft blue haze floating through the air and you both know it's just her laptop.

His grip loosens on your shoulder and you know you've lost him once again. So you slip out from under his arm and away from his lion heart. When he finally turns to you, his gaze coated in a film of concern, you simply give your head a toss in her direction, with your master of disguise smile plastered across your lips. And before he has a chance to react you turn toward your office to find your own comfy couch.

**A/N: Also this isn't the originally second chapter for this. I decided to add this in, which is why it took a little longer than originally planned. Chapter three is what I had ready to post but at the last minute I felt it was a little too cut and dry and that it needed another POV. And seeing how I love Cam this seemed like a pretty good idea. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it**


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